


Chapter Fifty-One: Secret

by CavalierConvoy



Series: MTMTE Series One: Shoot Straight with a Crooked Gun [52]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers Generation One
Genre: Banter, Developing Relationship, Gen, Investigations, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2015-05-18
Packaged: 2018-03-31 03:37:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3962947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CavalierConvoy/pseuds/CavalierConvoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A ship-wide assembly is called, and Artemis, needing something constructive to do,  decides to use the distraction to get some answers to questions shoved aside, much to the reluctance of her companions. While everyone is focusing on "who", the impromptu investigation team are searching for the "why", "how", and "when".</p><p>
  <i>Because that's what Magnus would do.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>If he wasn't dying....</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chapter Fifty-One: Secret

Why when do our darkest deeds do we tell?  
They burn in our brains, become a living hell  
Because everybody tells  
Everybody tells

—["Secret"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q701a0PIf-M) by The Pierces, from _Thirteen Tales of Love and Revenge_

_Lost Light_

Now

The sol's activities brought early-onset exhaustion mentally and physically for many a crew member, and by the time the intercom chimed a ship-wide alert, most had turned in for recharge.

Judging by the blue vidscreen, Artemis figured they had lost consciousness somewhere during the last movie, a Sirian heist comedy. She had likely been the first, judging by her position, head in Trailcutter's lap, his arm around her midsection. Hoist was still on the other side of the berth, his head to his chest, snoring softly, one arm draped over her legs. Where was Grapple...? Oh, leaning up against Hoist's legs, in a similar position as his comrade.

"I swear to Primus, if that's another 'Who's up for a fight?' klaxon, I'm going to kill him," she muttered.

"Before or after you volunteer to help out?" Trailcutter rumbled.

She harrumphed as Hoist coughed, raising his head as his optics onlined, only to look down at the objects in his lap and pulling his arm away as though touching something hot. "Can someone explain to me how this happened?" He knocked his knuckles against Artemis's legs in attempt to get her to move them.

"Hakuna matata," Grapple yawned as Artemis swung her legs over his head as she righted herself into a sitting position.

"Sorry 'bout that." She stretched her arms — arm — over her head, then froze. "I hope I didn't say any crazy slag in my sleep again. Hoist was just beginning to tolerate me."

"I'm starting to get jealous over this 'Octane' character, but other than that...." Trailcutter chuckled, trailing off.

"Anyone else noticing the chime's not preceding the usual 'who's up for a fight?' announcement?" Grapple yawned again.

"Um. Protocol. I'm trying to remember, I think that's something Ultra Magnus set up...." Hoist rubbed his brow.

"Head to the auditorium for a ship-wide assembly," Artemis translated.

"Mandatory or can we blow it off?" Grapple questioned. He could have used another couple of megacycles recharge.

"If it were mandatory," Trailcutter groaned as he dislodged his pinned arm against the wall, "we would hear Magnus tell us — dammit, Art, I'm sorry."

"Naw, it's fine," she slipped off the berth, stamping the feeling back into her foot before she lifted her head, brow cocked, as an epiphany struck her thoughts.

"Whatever you're scheming, you are not dragging us in with you," Hoist exclaimed.

"Wasn't going to ask," Artemis retorted. "But I think I've got a plan of action — "

"Let me just interrupt for a moment," Trailcutter slid to his feet, voice still groggy, "and discuss the meaning of 'medical leave' with you."

"There's nothing wrong with me," she interjected.

Grapple stammered out nonsensical syllables whilst indicating her left shoulder with a broad sweeping gesture of his index finger.

"Not to mention that technically you hadn't been cleared to return for duty prior to your impressive yet futile assault on Overlord," Hoist added. "Yes, I will admit, it was impressive. Still futile. But impressive, nonetheless."

"Okay, what's the first thing a commander does with his crew whenever there's multiple fatalities on a peacetime campaign?" Artemis questioned.

"None of us were in command positions, Art," Grapple yawned.

"Ignore him, he's brain-dead when he comes out of recharge," Hoist retorted. "During peacetime operations, take control of the situation by instilling a sense of calmness, of normality. Allow time to grieve. If not already instilled, create a sense of open community."

"Klaxon goes off, all personnel go to the auditorium for an announcement," Artemis prompted.

Her three companions stared at her, waiting for her to get to the point. After ten clicks, Trailcutter groaned. "She wants to sneak off and investigate the crime scene unobstructed," he revealed.

"I guess that means we're going to make certain she doesn't get in over her head," Grapple shrugged; Hoist and Trailcutter shot warning glares at the caution-yellow mech. "What?" he countered. "You know she'll just go on her own if we don't."

"You're catching on," she grinned.

*

It was like old times. Two mechs on either side of her, one flanking her immediate five. The difference was that this time, it was a sapper mission. Instead of quick-to-action Sandstorm and quicker-to-parley Octane, with Sky—Jetfire pulling full height for the intimidation factor, she was bouncing her thoughts off of the engineers, primarily Grapple; Hoist was the reserved voice of reason, while Trailcutter was focused on keeping watch, fearing they were going to get caught.

"By who?" Grapple demanded. "All officers and department heads would have been expected to participate in a ship-wide assembly. And besides, you're in our territory," he indicated himself and Hoist. "Many answer to us. We'll be fine, Trailbreaker. You can't say you're not a wee bit interested to get this whole thing figured out, can you?"

"For once, you're version of logic made sense," Hoist admitted.

"Let's start at the top, review the facts," Artemis began as they headed to the Maintenance lift. "Red found out that someone stashed a criminal psychopath with sadistic tendencies on board, but was afraid to bring it up to the officers, Magnus included. Why?"

"We are talking about Red here," Hoist added. "This is someone who saw a global conspiracy in a practical joke."

"Because he suspects the only way anyone could sneak Overlord on board would have to have access to the ship at all times," Grapple contemplated.

"But why?" Trailcutter demanded, choking around the words. "Why stash him here at all? That's what I don't get. Why was he even here?"

"That," Artemis growled, "is a very good question."

"What I don't get," Hoist interjected, "is why Red hadn't brought this up to Magnus."

"Can I throw something out?" Grapple questioned. "Let's just say he did bring this up to command. If Red came up to you and said he thought an omnicidal maniac was stashed on board, what would you think?"

"I'm seeing your point," Hoist conceded.

"I can tell you what Magnus would have done," Artemis countered, something roiling in her fuel tank. Not anxiety; now it was a concoction of sadness and anger. "He would have investigated. You think Red would have been head of security if Magnus didn't believe in his abilities? It wasn't out of distrust, that's for certain."

"Red wanted proof to bring to Magnus," Trailcutter pointed out. "He knew it would have sounded crazy otherwise."

"People who say they're crazy aren't really crazy," Hoist interjected. "And as much as I loved Red like a brother, he believed in his convictions. The rest of us were blind, in his mind, and it was up to him to make us see."

"But he was — is — smart," Grapple wrung his hands. "If he had brought it up to Rodimus, he wouldn't have needed proof."

"Rodimus was quick to accuse Cyclonus," Trailcutter reminded.

"Except I don't think Red trusted Rodimus, or Drift, for that matter," Grapple added. "But that doesn't answer why Overlord was here in the first place."

"We were told at Kimia he had his spark extracted and it was stored in a white vacuum room," Hoist explained.

"An elegant concept of utilising null-time to create a stasis chamber for criminals who were considered irredeemable," the caution-yellow architect explained, "giving them the sense of timelessness to contemplate their actions. Sadly, that's all it is: a concept. The closest we have is a physical slow cell."

"In other words, they lied," Artemis groused. "Ethics committee care to weigh in on this...?"

"Ethics committee was dissolved when peace was declared," Trailcutter revealed. "The patent did cross our desks, but without a working prototype, it was, as Grapple said, a concept."

"But why lie?" Hoist demanded.

"Give the public peace of mind," Artemis replied. "Peace is declared, the horrors behind us, and both sides are screaming for justice, to erase the architects of the war and their creations. Hm."

"A single syllable which can carry the weight of a civilisation," Grapple commented.

"Careful, Art, they're starting to pick up on your habits," Trailcutter observed, clapping her good shoulder.

"Who was involved with maximum security prisoners after the fall of Garrus-9?" Hoist demanded.

"Technically, Magnus had 'plausible deniability' command of any black ops involving special forces, Elite Guard, and/or Wreckers — " Artemis cut herself off.

"Hence why Red suspected Magnus," Hoist pointed out. "Or maybe not suspected, but perhaps considered him compromised."

"Can I call a character witness?" Trailcutter questioned as they entered the lift. Without waiting for affirmation, he continued. "Magnus pulls 'plausible deniability' only if the red tape is too thick to cut and time is short."

"Or Art's bootlegging again," Hoist muttered. Grapple snorted.

"He would never — never — risk the lives of noncombatants," Artemis stressed. "Bringing Overlord on board? That's a big aft risk to the crew."

"For the sake of the argument, let's say Magnus had nothing to do with this," Hoist continued. "Who else? Doesn't have to be anyone on-ship, mind."

"Jazz," Grapple suggested.

"Similar boat to Magnus," Artemis replied. "He's the reason I kept two steps ahead of the Senate during the Legion Conflict. Also, he's the type to neutralise the threat immediately. This is someone's long game, something Jazz doesn't do."

"Prowl?" Trailcutter proposed.

All four were silent as the lift chimed, announcing their arrival to the maintenance level.

"Spawn of a glitch," Artemis cursed.

"Well," Hoist's vents whistled. "Can't deny there's possible motives involved there."

"But why?" Trailcutter demanded.

"He was against this mission from the get-go," Grapple reminded.

"Convenient way to get rid of evidence of command fragging up from the optics of the public?" Artemis extended her index finger. "Shuffle the responsibility to an unknowing crew to act as warden for the prisoner?" Middle finger. "Has a network of subordinates capable of pulling off such an endeavour?" Thumb. "Considers loss of life acceptable when calculating the risks?" Fourth finger. "Destruction of evidence in tampering if the quest goes down in a flaming ball of slag?" Little finger. "I could continue, but I ran out of fingers."

"He'd need someone on the inside," Hoist conjectured.

"Drift?" Grapple questioned. "After all, it's technically his ship."

"Drift is the worst kind of Decepticon, by their tenant," Artemis countered. "Why would he agree to cart around the one 'Con outside the DJD that terrified their own troops?"

"The DJD is an urban legend," Hoist stated.

Artemis granted Hoist an 'if you say so' shrug, but said nothing to expand on the topic. "We've got to think along the lines of tradesmechs at this point. Command is one thing, but I'm willing to bet that Prowl alone couldn't weld a docking system for a slow cell on his own."

"Crew manifest," Hoist snapped his fingers. "We all have to log in whenever we're on duty."

"Would that include contractors?" Artemis questioned.

Hoist shrugged. "In theory, yes."

"Oi! What th' hell are you doin' here?" Dipstick growled as they entered the maintenance office, although he pointed the spanner exclusively at Artemis.

"We're investigating," she retorted.

"Is that what you call it?" Dipstick snarked.

Grapple glanced at Artemis for an explanation; in an exaggerated whisper, she revealed, "Dipstick caught me and 'Cutter a couple of sols ago engaging in an activity that was not part of our job descriptions."

Hoist groaned, covering his optics with a hand.

Trailcutter cleared his throat. "We're — " his voice had hitched an octave in embarrassment. Recalibrating, he started over. "We're tying up loose ends of the events leading up to and including Red's accident."

Dipstick regarded the largest of the four mechs before him with a dubious optic before addressing Hoist. "Lemme guess," he drawled, "You and Grapple're keeping these two clutch-munchers from getting 'side-tracked'?"

Trailcutter clamped a hand over Artemis's mouth before she could deliver a retort.

"We're providing expert analysis to piece together this puzzle," Grapple explained.

"Like how the hell a manifold-fraggin' slow cell was under our noses all this time?" Dipstick grumbled. "Take a number." With that, he punched a clearance code into the panel, granting entrance to the engine room. "Just make sure those piston-suckers don't wander off!"

Artemis responded, likely off-coloured, but muffled by Trailcutter's hand, its syntax was obscured. He released his hold once the door slid closed behind them.

"And to be honest, it wasn't nearly as illicit as he made it out to be," Artemis concluded with a huff. Her companion opened his mouth to contradict, but thought better of the action.

"Dipstick's got a point," Hoist brooded.

"Teebs and Art do tend to wander off?" Grapple muttered.

Hoist ignored him. "How does one hide a slow cell in plain view? Between the vent rats, maintenance crew, and security detail, we have the entire ship mapped and explored. There should have been no room unturned."

Grapple tapped his index fingers together. "The engines have always run a bit heavy, now that I think about it. Maybe it wasn't just an output error. Because it was consistent — "

" — we just assumed the engines were geared to run as such," Hoist rolled his optics, glaring at the ceiling. "That — is unlike me to not question it."

"That's neither here nor there, Hoist," Trailcutter shrugged. "This is a big ship. What do we know about the proper output this thing...outputs? I mean, what would we consider to be the acceptable output...plus or minus? Yeah, that sounded stupid."

"Not at all; it's a sound question, for laymech's terms," Hoist parried. "And you have a point: what we know about these quantum generators is what we've learnt on the fly. What do we know for certain the acceptable operational output is for the engines?"

"The slow cell could have been drawing from the engines and we would never know it unless we knew what to look for," Grapple added. "It could have had its own EM field, strong enough to stay attached to the ship during hops."

Even without a discernible mouth, Hoist's optics betrayed turning gears.

"Talk to us Hoist, I need ammo," Artemis prompted.

"Power spikes once a decacycle or so," Hoist continued. "It was uniform, so I figured it had to do with the engine revolutions. It's an old ship that we don't know much about, so if it's consistent, it's likely a feature."

"Uh, guys?" Grapple beckoned, pointing to the far end of the engine room to a large mech, sitting in a chair too small for his frame, elbows on his knees and back to them. "Why's Max down here...?"

"Getting as far away from crowds as possible would be my guess," Artemis shrugged.

"That too," Max called out, making a waving motion for them to join him. "Though I'm thinking we've got a common goal right now."

"You want to know how and why Overlord got on board just as much as we do," Hoist observed. To Artemis and Trailcutter, who were staring upon him in surprise, he expanded, "The sooner we get this done, the sooner things can get back to normal."

"As normal is it gets when the lunatics take over the asylum," Grapple added.

Max chuckled, a deep rumble from his chest, then pointed his chin at Artemis's lack of appendage. "Hope they can fix that; you have some serious fight in you for a mid-frame."

"Low priority right now on the triage," Artemis nodded. "How're you?"

"Can't deny the catharsis," the large Autobot shrugged, before rubbing his face. "But the outcome...just...why?"

"Running theory?" Artemis began.

"Technically a hypothesis," Hoist amended.

"We're thinking Prowl was involved; tried to get rid of a threat to Cybertron's reconstruction, also likely being petty 'cause a bunch of us decided not to deal with power grabs and bureaucratic slag," Artemis continued.

"Doesn't explain Magnus," Grapple interrupted.

"'Politician' is not synonymous with 'lawman'," Artemis bantered. "Lawmen uphold the law; politicians bend it to their advantage."

"Sounds like you got more understanding of the situation than me," Max admitted. "I've been out of the loop for five stels. And seeing that Rod tapped me to take Magnus's place — "

"I'm sorry," Hoist apologised.

"Yeah, I hear it's a cursed position."

"That's not what I meant," Hoist continued, flipping his thumb to Artemis and, as default, Trailcutter. "You have to deal with them on a regular basis."

"Oi!" Artemis protested. "We're not that bad!"

"I'd say we're pretty bad," Trailcutter rubbed the back of his neck.

"That's...pretty bad," Grapple muttered.

"Already got the memo," Max smirked. "Magnus was explicit in his notes. Something about medical leave, Art...?"

"Medical leave trumped fraternising? I'm surprised," Artemis barked a laugh.

"I'd hate to be the police called to the party," Hoist reminded, "but we did come down here with a purpose."

"The slow cell," Max stood, towering over the four. "At least, what's left of it. We've got the door, although there's a complication."

"Oh, complications. I love complications," Artemis grumbled.

"Likely having its own complication," Grapple jested.

"Have you by any chance gone over the schematics?" Hoist questioned, nudging Grapple with his elbow, a warning.

Max shook his head. "Just got down here myself. I've only been on the job four megacycles. You've got an idea?"

"Work manifest," the grey-green engineer nodded. "Who worked down here, who was responsible for repairs at certain times, who had access. Art's thinking it might have been an inside job."

"I'm thinking Prowl had an insider, that's all," Artemis appended.

"And might I add it's still a running hypothesis that Prowl was involved in the first place?" Trailcutter appended.

Max handed Hoist a datapad. "Have a blast. While you do that, we've got that complication to face."

"And that would be...?" Trailcutter prompted.

The former G-9 warden harrumphed. "You'll see."

Or rather, felt. As they progressed down the corridor to the circular door, Grapple, then Hoist, stopped in their tracks, meeting one another's gaze.

"There," Grapple exclaimed. "Anyone else feeling that? Like a — "

" — buzzing?" Hoist questioned. "But somewhere — " he made a circular gesture around his helm, just above the crown. "It's ... inside?"

"What — oh, that." Trailcutter halted, brow cocked. "What the hell is that?"

"Told you," Max chortled. "Haven't the foggiest."

Hoist concentrated on the sensation. "Infrasound. Ultra low frequency transmission. Causes disorientation, nausea...."

"From the engine?" Grapple questioned.

Hoist shook his head. "We've been closer than this to the block with no effect. No, this is something different."

"We weren't affected by that when Rewind and I came down this way," Max retorted.

"You were also balls to the wall dragging Overlord back to the cell," Trailcutter observed. "Maybe stress overrode this infrasound?"

"That's a possibility," Hoist nodded, scanning the datapad's screen for names and times. "And of course there's nothing in the schematics showing any sort of sonic deterrent or — anyone else think Art's been way too quiet?"

"You had one job, Trailbreaker," Max jested as the four turned to face the fifth member of their impromptu investigation team. Head cocked downward to one side, she held up her index finger. Quiet....

She stepped forward, then, unhitching her sledge hammer, she swung it with a hefty arc, slamming it into a panel a metre above her head. Grapple yelped in surprise.

"Faulty heat sinks," Artemis muttered. "Coupled with low frequencies, can cause auditory hallucinations. Whispering, that sort of thing. Amplifies white noise so that you think you're hearing things. I just got good at ignoring it. Didn't dawn on me until recently that maybe I wasn't touched; just a faulty upgrade. Everyone good?"

"I think there's another one," Hoist admitted, tapping the side of his head, "but I can't seem to place it."

"I'll find it," she smirked, chambering the hammer onto her shoulder. "So someone took the trouble to install ELF emitters to deter anyone from stumbling across the slow cell."

"'Elf'?" Trailcutter questioned.

"Extremely low frequency noise," Hoist explained. "Otherwise known as infrasound."

The former member of the Ethics committee issued a hmph. "Now that I think about it, I remember an infrasound cannon crossing the panel. Theoretically, it caused disorientation and nausea, incapacitating the targets."

"Did it pass?" The yellow Autobot demanded.

"Yeah and no." Max took the initiative. "We attempted to use it during one of the first riots under my watch at G-9. Probably would have worked better if three-quarters of the inmates hadn't already heard voices — " He was interrupted by Artemis smashing another panel.

"Don't mind me," she ordered, pacing around the room.

"So who could have installed the ELF emitters — Artemis, if you find another one, just tell us; I'd like to examine it!" Hoist protested.

"Now," Grapple cleared his throat, "what can be said about the perception filter on the door?"

"What perception filter?" Trailcutter demanded.

"Exactly," Artemis muttered, circling the four, focusing her attention on the walls.

"Well, it would be obvious," Grapple huffed, "seeing how many times Hoist and I've been down here, and only now are aware of this." With that, he gestured to the circular portal, still stained dull pink from Chromedome's spilt energon. "We're not dealing with Dipstick here; Hoist and I are competent artisans. We notice things. And if we don't notice something, it's because there's a perception filter on said thing."

"You know, somewhat off-topic?" Trailcutter interjected. "But is it possible the ELF emitters were causing Red's symptoms?"

"We then go back to the ineffectiveness on those mentally divergent to begin with," Hoist countered.

"Well, that puts me in an interesting position. Oi, Grapple, give me a hand, seeing as I only have one." Artemis beckoned.

"That's not stopping you from swinging a two-handed weapon," Max observed before returning his attention to Hoist. "So we need to figure out when and where these deterrents were installed."

The engineer nodded. "The fact these are nonlethal installations tell me that they were placed with the intention of keeping the crew from stumbling across the cell; a safety protocol, if you will. Artemis, you mentioned auditory hallucinations. How did you know the difference between that and mentally divergent behaviour?"

"Difference between hearing voices and knowing you're listening to beefed up white noise?" the one-armed mech shrugged. "I'm not carrying a malfunctioning relic of near-mythic magnitude anymore, therefore it has to be white noise. Fourth panel from top, two left of centre, Grapple."

After a five click silence, Max grumbled, "The things I missed."

"Can we pull the perception filter as well?" Trailcutter was quick to change the subject. "Maybe that has some sort of manufacturer's label, or at least a telltale design feature to trace back to the person who built it...?"

"You don't have to," Brainstorm approached the group. "That would be my design."

 

NEXT CHAPTER: Little Pistol


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